


Did a Stupid Thing

by winterda



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterda/pseuds/winterda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after that demon killed his wife, Killian Jones meets a hunter that might can help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did a Stupid Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written way back in August and was inspired by a gif set on Tumblr. I decided to rewrite it a little and put up here. Right now it's just a one-shot, but we'll see how this goes.

The whiskey burned as it slid down his throat, but after years of drinking crap cheaper than this, Killian hardly noticed. With the tumbler draining after one go, he raised up his hand to signal the bartender for another. The pretty blonde was busy with another customer at the moment but nodded to let him know that she had seen him and was on her way.

As the whiskey warmly pooled in his stomach, Killian took a moment to appreciate the ambiance of this fine establishment. A few blood and beer stains on the frayed cloth of the pool tables, light fixtures that were covered in three layers of dust and would probably explode if you tried to put in those energy saving light bulbs, and the oh so pleasant smell of leather, unwashed bodies, and too much Old Spice -- the place practically screamed redneck bar. With a name like The Roadhouse, what did he really expect? The clientele even matched it, right down the clichéd mullets. Flannel and jeans seemed to be the preferred dress, so Killian figured he was only slightly out-of-place with the red hoodie sticking out from the top of his coat. It was enough to draw the attention of most of the people there, however, who watched with cool, weary eyes.

The splashing of alcohol into a glass drew his attention, but to his surprise it wasn’t the pretty bartender from earlier. A blond in a red jacket had slid into the seat next to his without his noticing and was currently pouring herself and him a drink from her own flask. The annoyed glint in her eyes might have been off putting to some men, but Killian just smirked in response and picked up his glass.

“You following me?” she asked as she screwed back on the top of the flask and stuck it back in her jacket.

Pinching the tumbler between thumb and middle finger, Killian stared at the amber liquid and asked, “Is it really following if I was here first?”

The annoyed look in Emma’s eyes turned to a full blown glare in response. That was rather hard to argue with, or it would have been if he hadn’t seen her little yellow bug parked outside this place for the past two nights in a row. It hadn’t taken a large leap of faith to think that she would be back tonight.

“And how do you know that I just didn’t want to share a drink with a pretty lady?” he replied. “You did save my life, after all. Or, well, soul I suppose.”

“So you admit that you’ve been stalking me, now?” Emma asked as she downed her own drink. 

“Simply showing gratitude,” Killian replied tightly. 

“Consider it shown,“ she said. Having already grown tired of the conversation, Emma stood up from her stool. She leaned in close to him and said, “Now I think it would be a good idea for you to finish your drink and go back to your life and forget you ever meet me, Killian Jones.”

His small glass made a seemingly awful big nose as is hit the counter. “And what life would that be, love? The one before that witch? Or the one I had before some demon killed my wife? Because if you know how I can do that, please enlighten me.” 

She stood there and stared at him for a moment, as what she knew about him slid into place. He expected to see pity to form there, something that he had come to truly loath over the past few years since Milah’s death, but it never came. The only thing there was that Emma understood and perhaps empathized with his situation.

“That’s what you were doing?” she asked. “You were trying to find some way to, what? Kill a demon?”

The calmness in her voice made him laughed humorlessly. “More like just trying to find the damn thing,” he replied. 

“You were going to sell your soul for a summoning spell?” Emma asked incredulously. 

Killian shrugged and turned back to his drink. “I’ve tried everything else, and it’s hard to enact revenge when you don’t know where your target is.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Emma still watching him. She wasn’t making any sort of outward movements, but it was clear the wheels were turning in her head. Killian knew that whatever was going on inside the brain of one Emma Swan was going to decide his fate. The real question was, was she going to help him get to where he needed to be or leave him on his own once more. The slight press of her lips signaled that she had reached her decision and, even though she had been somewhat of an open book to him thus far, he actually had no idea what it might be.

“God, you’re stupid,” she breathed under her breath. Killian wasn’t sure if she meant him or herself. Before he could ask, Emma said, “Drink your drink.”

Oh. Right. Wasn’t expecting that.

“What?” Killian asked.

She nodded to the tumbler that was still mostly full expected for the small bit that had sloshed out at some point.

“Drink,” she repeated. “Then we might talk.”

He frowned at her but picked up the small glass. With practice ease, he went to down the shot in gulp when the lip-puckering taste washed over his tongue. Unfortunately for him, most of it was halfway down his throat before that taste had caught up with his brain, and Killian found himself choking and trying to cough up the foulest tasting liquor had ever put in his mouth. Worst yet was the bit that had somehow managed to go up into his nose in the his vain attempt to get it out and air into his lungs. 

“Bloody hell! What’s in that?” he coughed as a few unwilling tears leaked out.

“Whiskey. Special blend with salt and Holy Water.” 

With absolutely no sympathy, Emma grabbed his face and forced him to look up at her. She turned his head from one side to the other, watching his eyes with particular interest. When she seemed satisfied by whatever it was she looking for, she let go of his face.

“Congratulations, you’re not possessed,” she said with a slightly sarcastic smirk. It faded quickly from her face, though. “You sure you want to go down this road? Because there aren’t any exits. Just monsters and hours of driving and bad fast food. And this is your future if you‘re lucky.”

Emma gestured to the worn men and woman that occupied the bar around them who curled around their drinks. Their shoulder where hunched from years of hard work and no appreciation. That these few minutes that they sat here were the only moments of peace they were going to get.

This was the price.

He leaned in close to her and, if it were not for the hard frown on his face, one might have mistaken it was a prelude to an intimate moment stolen between lovers. Just as he thought, she refused to back away from him and stared back at him levelly.

“Lead the way,” he replied.

With a sigh, Emma started to walk away from him. For a moment, he though that she meant to leave him here to his misery, but she paused only a few feet from where he sat.

“You coming or not?” 

A smile -- the first real one that Killian could remember having in quiet some time -- pulled at the corner of his mouth as he slid off his own barstool, left some cash on the bar, and headed towards the door.


End file.
